


A Good Day to Die

by sg_wonderland



Series: Days series [11]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: A stranger in their midst and a bit of Daniel snarkiness





	

**Author's Note:**

> As Daniel once said, the Sioux would, before going in to battle, say that it was a good day to die.

It’s not that I haven’t placed myself in harm’s way before. I have. I’ve served in the Air Force my entire adult life. So why shouldn’t I be able to handle one six-year-old boy? Granted, I don’t have any kids of my own, haven’t been around that many. But he’s just a kid, right? Just a child. How much trouble can he possibly be?

It was Sam’s idea that we keep the kid for the day. His guardian, Colonel O’Neill, usually palmed the kid off to daycare but it was a sunny Saturday and Sam thought he needed to get out more. Hence, her offer for us to take him. An offer, I might add, she made without consulting me. I did have plans for our day and they simply didn’t include babysitting. But what was I gonna say? The kid’s MIA father was, had been, Sam’s best friend and it was clear all of SG-1, if not the entire damn base, adored the tyke. So I smiled and said I’d be happy to include him in our plans. 

Which I then had to revamp after speaking with Sam about the kid’s likes and dislikes. He didn’t like fishing; he was too little to hike very far, too small to appreciate baseball games or motorcycles, which is what Sam and I bonded over. What do six-year-olds do? Finally, I hit on an idea. Wonder if he’s ever been to Seven Falls?

Sam smiles nervously as she opens the door. “Hey,” I lean in and kiss her cheek, palpably aware that there may be a small child lurking around any corner.

“Come on in. Daniel’s already here.” She leads me into the kitchen where I spy the enemy, seated on a stool slurping a glass of chocolate milk. “Daniel, this is Colonel Andreas Kimball. Andy, this is Daniel.”

“Nice to meet you.” I almost stick my hand out but stop myself just in time.

“Hi.” His serious eyes latch on to me through both pair of our glasses. “Are you in the Air Force, Colonel?”

“Yes, I am, I work at the mountain with Sam and Colonel O’Neill.”

“What do you do?” 

I can’t tell him that I’m the team leader of SG-8; that I go to different planets. Talk about freaking the kid out! “I do whatever General Hammond tells me to do.”

He inexplicably smiles. “That’s what Jack always says.”

*

Although Seven Falls is beautiful at any time, it really shows best at night. I make a mental promise to bring Sam back sometime after dark. As it is, I keep one of Sam’s hands in mine, she keeps Daniel’s in the other as we follow the tour guide to the elevator that takes you up top. He has asked the tour guide a number of questions about how the falls were formed, how long it took, how many steps it is, how they built the elevator. The guide, a smiling teen-ager, is obviously well used to this because she has answers for every question he asks. I catch a gleam in her eye and I realize she knows he is trying to catch her in something she can’t answer. He doesn’t succeed so his face is a bit stormy as we ride the elevator up.

He starts to dart out as soon as the doors open but Sam is obviously well used to him and keeps him securely in her grip. “Daniel.” She says warningly. “I’d hate to have to tell Jack you misbehaved today.”

This seems to have little or no effect on him and I wonder if Colonel O’Neill is a proponent of corporal punishment. A well placed occasional whack to his little backside might not come amiss.

We head out and Sam takes lots of pictures. “Sam, let me get a picture of you two.” I forestall before she suggests getting one of me and the kid together. She grabs him up and poses with him in her arms. They’re both very photogenic, their blonde heads close together. I keep the camera and take a couple of more candid shots as she kneels and points out an interesting rock. 

I must admit he’s a very cute kid and far smarter than I gave him credit for. Although, that really shouldn’t have surprised me, after all his father did figure out how to open the gate. I only ever did one mission with Jackson, he came out to where we were once to try to communicate with the locals. I admit to dreading him at the time, but he was quiet, cooperative and did his job professionally. The fact that the locals had no interest in becoming allies certainly had nothing to do with him and everything to do with what they perceived as our violent natures. I suspect the P90’s and grenades might have put them off just a tad.

*

There are several nice hotels in the area and I reserved lunch at one of them. I admit that I wanted to impress Sam, something that’s hard to do with a woman who has seen more galaxies than I have. And I have to admit that part of me resented giving up my romantic day to share her with the kid. I had a sneaking suspicion he knew just what I was thinking.

“Sam, what would you like?” I ask her over the menu, trying to ignore the booster seat that was at her side where I should be.

“The grilled chicken sounds great, with the grilled vegetables. Daniel, how about you?” The kid looks over the huge menu and without missing a beat orders poached salmon and rice. “Is that cooked in wine?” Sam inquires suspiciously.

“It is, madam.” The waiter admits. “However, if the young man would like, I believe the chef can amend the preparation for a younger palate.” He does and the changes are made, his little face is quite mutinous when Sam orders him milk.

“Sam, you can’t drink milk with fish.” He objects.

“Well, you’re not getting wine, so you can take that sulk off your face.”

“Perhaps a nice lemonade.” The waiter offers helpfully. “It’s freshly-squeezed.”

Due to the presence of a six-year-old, we all end up with the lemonade.

*

Lunch goes pretty well, there are no out-and-out skirmishes although I sense hostility from across the table. A sense that only increases when Sam has to excuse herself to answer her cell phone, opting to take the call somewhere private. Translate that to mean it’s the mountain.

He puts his fork down and stares intently at me. “You don’t like me.”

Stunned by his frontal attack, I scramble for something to say. “I don’t know you.”

Even to me, that sounded lame. “You’d rather have Sam to yourself.”

Okay, this is clearly one very perceptive kid so I just decide to tell him the truth. “I could say the same about you. I like Sam a lot. I’d like to get to know her better, that’s why I asked her out.”

“I didn’t ask to be dragged along today, you know.” He informs me coolly.

That shocks me, I assumed he’d invited himself along to keep me away from Sam. “So why are you here?”

“I’m spying for Jack.” He is very cool, taking his time to let the words and their intent sink in. “Oh, and just so you know, if you tell Sam, I’ll deny it. And if she tells Jack, he’ll just deny it too. So,” he shrugs his little shoulders, quite content to know he has the upper hand.

He, in fact, does. 

“We shoot people who hurt Sam.” His eyes are strangely intense for a child.

I bite back a grin at his Jack O’Neill imitation; I assume he thinks he’s threatening. He’d probably shoot me himself if I told him it wasn’t in the least frightening and borders on funny. “You know what, I would too.”

“Would what?”

“Sam.” I leap to my feet as she slides back into the booth. “Everything alright?”

“Hmm, for now. I’ll tell you later,” she sips her lemonade.

“That means you don’t want me to hear.” He sighs dramatically.

“Got it in one, kiddo. So what were the two of you talking about not doing?”

“Not getting too close to the edge of those falls,” the kid is a very quick thinker. “Did you see how far down it was?” His wide eyes dare me to contradict him.

“Not if you were Wile E. Coyote.”

Sam snickers. “Daniel doesn’t really do cartoons so you might have to explain that.”

I stare at him in shock. “You don’t watch cartoons?”

“Only ‘The Simpsons’ and that’s just because Jack loves them. Cartoons are for babies.” The ultra-adult dismisses such childishness with a wave of his tiny hand.

I’ll admit I haven’t spent much time with children, the occasional holiday with nieces and nephews but I thought all kids liked cartoons. “So what do you do for fun?”

“I read, play video games, beat Jack at chess.”

“Really? I play a pretty decent game, you’ll have to give me a match sometime.” Actually, I’m an excellent player, was on the chess team throughout high school and college. Not that I would deliberately crush the child or anything just to show him who’s boss. I am, after all, an officer and a gentleman 

“He’s won a few awards for chess at school.” Sam warns me.

“Then we definitely have to play.” I pause. “What kind of awards?”

He shrugs, trying but failing to appear nonchalant. “Just awards.”

“So where do you go to school?”

“Briarwood.” He drags the remains of the salmon through the non-wine based sauce.

“Good school.” Just the other day, I heard a couple of officers who wanted to send their kids there mention the very snooty private school, along with the lament about the tuition cost. “So, how may pieces you gonna spot me in chess?”

“None.” His dancing eyes finally look like those of a child. “Not at first, anyway.”

*

I spot just a hint of a smug smile on his face as Sam unfastens his booster seat and prepares to lift him. “Here, let me. You get the door.” He stiffens as I pick him up and I know my smile is just as smug. “Got you,” I whisper in his ear as I carry him and lay him on Sam’s couch. Clearly this is a dilemma for him. He has to pretend to still be asleep or risk Sam finding out he was faking. “Too bad he fell asleep, we could have had a game.”

“His name is Daniel.” Sam’s voice is sharp.

“I know his name.”

“And not once today did you use it.” I look at her perplexed. “You never called him by his name. Did you even try to see him as an individual and not just some kid you got saddled with for the day?”

I tread carefully. “Sam, I know he….Daniel is important to you. But we just met. You can’t expect me to love him like you do.”

“Keep your voice down.” She orders me in a fierce whisper. I follow her eyes but he’s rolled over, has his face turned away so I can’t tell if he’s still playing possum or not.

“What was this, some kind of a test? You wanted to see how I’d react to him?”

”If you and I are going to have any kind of a relationship, then you need to know that Daniel is very, very important to me. He just lost his parents, for God’s sake! His father is one of my oldest, dearest friends and I will always be here for Daniel. If you can’t take that, it’s best to just get out now.”

“Are we having our first fight?”

“Maybe.”

“Please stop fighting.” A little voice wobbles from the depths of the couch.

Sam swoops immediately, holding him as he struggles to escape. “Baby, we’re sorry.”

“I don’t want you fighting about me.” He is openly crying now, the devious schemer washed away in a flood of tears. I feel like the worst kind of a heel and I don’t imagine Sam feels any better. We’re a fine pair to be let loose with a child.

“We weren’t fighting about you.” She consoles, stroking his hair back and kissing his face.

“I’m not deaf,” he huffs through the sobs. “I heard you!”

She takes the Kleenex box I hand her. “Thanks. Daniel, we’re sorry. We shouldn’t have argued in front of you and certainly not about you. That was very rude.”

“People think kids can’t hear stuff,” he hiccups as she dries his tears. “We’re just little, we’re not stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” I perch beside her. “But see, you have to remember that Sam and I don’t have a lot of experience dealing with children, Daniel. I’m sorry, too, I shouldn’t have been talking about you.”

Sam hugs him tightly while I just sit there, instinctively knowing it’s too soon to offer any comfort. That’ll take time, I realize. And I surprise myself by realizing that I wanted to. Ah, what the hell, I wrap my arms around both of them so that Daniel is squashed firmly in the middle. “See, I think Daniel was just trying to weasel out of the chess game.”

He wriggles between us. “You’re just scared of getting beat by a little kid.”

“I think there’s every chance I’ll get beaten by a little kid. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to play.”

*

He finally agrees to let Sam take him to the bathroom and clean him up, change his shirt. The fact that she has some of his clothes here tells me he is more than just an occasional visitor. I’m looking through her CDs trying to find something we might all like to listen to. I suspect whatever I pick he, Daniel, is not going to like. He came in to this determined not to like me but I’m not taking it personally; I know he would resent anyone he sees as disturbing his circle of family. I don’t pretend to know much about the recuperative powers of children but I figure it won’t take him long to bounce back from his little fit.

And I’m right. He pops back up in the living room, cocks his head, murmurs, “Chopin,” and asks if I still want to play chess.

“Sure, why not?” 

I don’t question why Sam has a board but doesn’t play. He must be a mind reader. “My dad and Jack used to play all the time.”

“Was he any good? Your father?” I nod to indicate he can start.

“Yeah, he was better than me.”

“Well, he had a few more years of experience than you do.”

He is a good player, a slow, careful player, not yet confident enough of his skills to be reckless. But he’s still a damned good player. I hesitate over a move and he folds his arms over his chest. “If you let me win, I’ll be even madder at you.”

“Fair enough.” I move in on his king.

“Okay,” he peruses the board for a safe move.

“I hope money is not changing hands.” We both look up to see Colonel O’Neill standing in the doorway.

The kid’s face literally lights up. “Jack!” He flings himself at the colonel, with a child’s confidence that he’ll be caught, picked up, held.

“So, did you have a good time today?” He looks over that blonde head toward me.

“It was...enlightening.”

O’Neill laughs. “I hear that a lot where Daniel is concerned.”

“Shall I leave the room so you can talk about me to your hearts content?” The petulant voice comes from somewhere over O’Neill’s shoulder where the little monster is currently draped.

“Nah,” he shakes the child slightly. “Thank Colonel Kimball for putting up with you today, Daniel.”

He twists in O’Neill’s arms, gives me a devilishly charming smile. “Thank you, Colonel Kimball. I had a good time.”

I bite my tongue and accept his thanks.

*

Two weeks later, I’m sitting on a bench by the front entrance waiting for Sam when someone plops down beside me. Glancing over, I realize it’s him. “Hey, how are you?”

“Okay.”

“You don’t sound okay, sounds like you have a cold.” His voice is scratchy and his eyes are red.

Suddenly, those eyes are alight with mischief as he leans toward me. “Have you ever had chicken pox?” I automatically scoot over. 

“Daniel.” He jumps at O’Neill’s voice behind us. “Relax, Kimball, he doesn’t have chicken pox. Spring allergies.” 

“It could be chicken pox.” He swings his legs. “I could have infected the entire base. Millions of people could get sick just from being around me.” His voice is dramatic.

“I know the feeling.” O’Neill sighs. “Come on.”

“Can’t I wait here with Colonel Kimball while you get the truck?”

“No, because Colonel Kimball doesn’t have his side-arm, something that seems to be required when dealing with a small child with allergies. Say good-bye, Daniel.”

“Good-by, Colonel Kimball, it was nice seeing you again. Maybe you could come over some time and we could finish that chess game?”

I shudder as O’Neill takes his hand and drags him away.


End file.
